


desert daze

by cross_off



Series: cross_off's pokemon cinematic universe [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pokemon Colosseum & XD
Genre: 'the wire' was a big influence, Desert aesthetic, F/F, F/M, Gen, Minimalism, Organized Crime, POV Multiple, coffeeshop with token action scenes, sibling conflicts? sibling conflicts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2020-03-13 18:05:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18946120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cross_off/pseuds/cross_off
Summary: "sunlight glints off echo canyon's rooftops.  phenac's fountains bubble with laughter.  the desert wind sings as it slices through pyrite's alleys.  motion and change, signs of life, playing in an endless loop.the cycle continues into its final phase, yet three seek to escape.  can they crack the cipher and elude the wheel before it breaks them?  or has the spiral progressed too far to stop?welcome to desert daze"hi, this is a more mainstream pokemon story from me (which I’m making up for with the more minimalist, experimental writing style), based on my blind run of pokemon colosseum (played with an edit of the standard nuzlocke rules; think it still counts but honestly w/e).  updates at irregular intervals but always on a friday; also cross-posted to the nuzlocke forums and the canalave library (the crossposts have additional info about the story and the gameplay in the form of author’s notes).  cheers and hope you guys enjoy!





	1. wishful sinking

Something flashes in the depths of the dark alleyway.

 

Another burst of light radiates out into the night, and then another.  It’s psychic energy, fired in singular bursts rather than a sustained wave, more white than pink in its intensity.  The air stirs from a heavy thud, and a small black shape is launched out onto the sidewalk, groaning in pain.

 

Look.  Inside the alley, two small shapes - one light and one dark - dart back and forth between snarling Pokemon, landing strikes as they go and then withdrawing out of range.  Their movements are furious and yet controlled, and there's a sequence to it, a cadence these two follow like steps in a dance.

 

The dance only lasts for a few seconds before all their opponents are down.  Their trainer, the guard, still stands by the end of it - he staggers backwards into an alcove, jamming a key into a door and twisting it hard enough to warp the aged wood frame.  His eyes are fixed on the two Eeveelutions as they creep closer, their fangs bared.

 

He never sees it coming.  As the door jerks open, an arm snakes out of the shadows, wrapping around the guard's windpipe before he can react.  The choke quickly takes effect, and a vague outline draws back into the shade, rocking its captive gently to the ground.

 

Only when he's satisfied that the guard won’t wake does the outline take form.  A tall, lean figure emerges from the building’s shadow, half-crouched, snagging the fallen key with a flick of his wrist.

 

The tall figure pockets the key, then jerks his head to one side.  The two Pokemon behind him take off at a run, diving into the building's darkened interior.  The man pauses, standing up straight, glancing backwards at the alleyway.  Something prickles at his senses - an instinct that even the veil of a watcher cannot deflect entirely.  He doesn't see it, doesn't hear it, couldn't comprehend it if he tried, but he knows it’s there.

 

When he finally steps inside, he pulls the door shut behind him, the only precaution he can take against a watcher's attentions.  And the alley is empty once more.

 

Distant, muffled sounds come from behind the door - yells of shock and barked commands, a handful of scattered gunshots, and the thrumming of psychic energy.  The slams and thuds of physical violence follow, raw and percussive in their intensity, and once they’ve ceased, there’s a plea for mercy, barely enough to echo beyond the door.  Then silence falls.  The sequence repeats over and over, varying and growing dimmer on each repetition, a corrupted recording that eventually dissolves into static.

 

This is a dangerous part of town - where graffiti spreads like moss on the walls, where dim streetlights cast weird shadows across the cracked sidewalks, where one in every ten houses has a hidden safe under the floorboards, loaded with cash and drugs and illegal weapons.  Yet there's no violence.  The local Pokemon-runners have long since consolidated all power in this little town in their own hands, and the gangs of Orre are not known for their kindness to rivals, nor their accommodation of disruptions.  Anyone who crossed them would be courting death and worse.

 

Yet this figure and his Pokemon seemed to think nothing of it - indeed, they’d practically welcomed it.  And the way they'd dispatched the doorwardens...

 

The door creaks open.  It feels like it’s been mere minutes since the trio entered - but only the dark one emerges.  He snuffs the air as he steps into the open, but a few seconds later he turns away, retreating back into the darkened building.  The door he leaves ajar.

 

It's not a proper invitation, but it will do.

 

Follow.  It's barely navigable inside, and the only guide is the faint golden glow of the dark one's rings, bobbing as he makes his way forward.  The dark one moves quickly, expertly picking his way past the debris, eyes fixed ahead.  The pursuit only lasts a few minutes before he reaches a side door, wriggling his way through the gap and into the open.

 

There are no lights on this side of the compound, but the bright moonlight is enough to illuminate the three of them.  The tall figure, their trainer, stands next to a large hovering contraption, flanked on either side by the light one and the dark one.  The light one pricks her ears up, murmuring slightly.  Does she feel fresh forest air, smell the earthy tang that accompanies a watcher?  Does she know what they herald?

 

The dark one might have noticed it, but he seemed preoccupied, too distracted to stir.  “Let it go, sis,” he whispers.  “I just came that way, there’s no-one inside.”  The light one’s ears droop in response, and she turns her head away.

 

The trainer doesn't notice the exchange.  His hands are out of sight, but his arms move with languid grace, and a precision that only comes through familiarity.  His eyes are cast downwards, but a fire is visible there nonetheless, a burning intensity that fixes him in place and ties him to his task.

 

Only when he steps away do the cracks show, where his flames have begun to eat away at him.  His hand trembles as he raises it, and it takes him a few moments to gather himself.  “Elena,” he says.  “You know the drill.”  
  
Watch as the light one - Elena - steps forward, eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration.  The air around the bike begins to shimmer, vibrating with psychic energy, faster and faster and faster until finally a spark catches in mid-air, hovering ghost-like above their heads.

 

Then a popping sound is heard, like a cork flying off a bottle, as air is released from a tight container to return to the open sky.  The tall figure steps backwards, turning away from his fallen vehicle, seemingly ignorant of the sudden splash from behind him.  His pokemon follow him, moving in step and in accord, reflections of one another.

 

As they reach the edge of the alleyway, the spark finally falls, landing beneath the bike in a cushion of viscous liquid.  The dark pool ignites, the flames sweep greedily outward-

 

And the trio disappears in a sudden burst of light, as the alley is consumed by fire.

 

The blaze engulfs the small space, and tongues of flame stab upwards at the sky, the only plane open to them.  They barely make it a few meters before collapsing back to earth, drowning the courtyard in violent orange flares and billowing black smoke.

 

Then two pinpricks of scarlet light shine within the inferno, and around them violet miasma is woven into a barrier stronger than steel.  The hemispheric shield stands tall, filtering out the smoke, holding the asphyxiating heat and scorching flames at bay, slowly receding into the distance.

 

When the flames finally die away, the trio are visible, standing by an open gate at the compound’s edge.  The light one drops to her haunches as her shield evaporates, and the dark one prowls around her anxiously.  Only their trainer looks back, firelight glinting in his eyes.  His hands are no longer trembling.

 

“I always did like that bike,” he mutters, a husky trace of regret audible in his voice.  Sorrow, fear, and relief flash across his face, melting into a strange acceptance.  Resolve flickers and shines in his eyes as he steels himself for the road ahead.

 

“Well,” he whispers to his silent companions, “let's get going.  Wouldn't want to go to all this trouble just for the cops to catch us.”

 

The light one shakes her head, chuffing slightly as she gets back to her feet, but the dark one nods solemnly, stepping to his master's side.  After a second, the light one joins them - and the trio turn tail, disappearing soundlessly into the night.


	2. find yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter lies in a weird gray zone between intermission and introduction...but it was fun nonetheless. next time: phenac? who knows

Some people say that everything changes, given time. Those people probably never laid eyes on the Orresian desert.

I watch from the shade, from the small ravine where Sis and Wes have taken shelter. Grey clouds drift lazily across the sky, and morning shadows fall like a shroud over the sands. It's a bleak, gray image that lies before me; one that’s been dulled to immutability, rendering it strangely timeless. And I know that come sunlight, shadow, rain or snow-

“When’re we leaving, brother?” drawls Elena, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“We're not leaving,” I respond, sparing a glance eastward before turning back to her. “This is as far northwest as we can go without hitting the Howls.”

This wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation, and I braced myself for another list of the reasons why venturing into that storm-plagued desert might actually be a good idea.

“The Howls?” asks Elena, pushing herself to her feet. “Come on, brother, you’re not saying you’re scared of a little bad juju, are you?”

“You know the plan, Elena,” I say dryly. “You want to wander out into the Howls on your own, be my guest. I’ll be telling my kids about you someday - silly old Aunt Elena, we warned her so many times-”

“Alright, alright,” she says. “Point made. But what are we doing out here, just waiting?”

“We’re just waiting,” I echo, and leave it at that. Another glance to the side, a nonchalant shrug, and then I sit back down, savoring my sister's annoyance. It's her fault, though. Maybe if she didn't tune out when we were talking earlier, she wouldn't be so clueless-

“Waiting for what, though?" Elena burst out. "That ‘Sandshrew’ a few miles back?”

“It was there!” I said, shooting to my feet. “I saw the sand bubbling, there had to have been something-”

A deep horn booms over the plains, startling us both. I recover quicker than she does (an advantage gained by paying attention to the plan), casting my eyes eastward.

There. A glint of metal, almost impossible to pick out through the noon sun's glare. But I don't need to see it to hear the distant rumbling, the faint screech of metal as wheels scrape against track.

The Eastern Orre Freight Line. Our ticket to a new life.

“That?” Elena asks, her ears standing up straight. “That's what we've been waiting for?”

“Yup,” I say cheerfully, looking back as Wes eases himself to his feet, shading his eyes against the sun.

"Lune," and I turn to my sister, whose paws twitch as she shifts her weight from one leg to the other. She only does that when she's nervous, really nervous. "What's the plan, again?"

"We're hitching a ride," I say, grinning. "Come on, we talked about this!"

"I thought you were, I don't know, talking about some movie you enjoyed!" she shouts back. "People don't jump on trains in real life!" Five seconds ago she’d been confident, ready to brave the Howls - now, she was quivering at the thought of jumping onto a train?

“Come on,” I say, more reassuringly this time. “Just one quick jump and we're on. Hell, I'll go first, and then I can catch you when you get up.”

She looks as uncertain as she had last night, when we'd watched the embers of our previous life drift away, but she nods. There's resolution in her face, even if she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

There's no space for words now, anyways, as the train barrels towards us, larger and louder until it drowns out the world. It's faster than Raikou, more violent than Entei, just as majestic as Suicune, and it roars as loudly as the three hounds of myth. It's all I can do to not fall to my knees as it passes, to not bow before its sheer power.

Wes moves as quickly as he ever has, breaking into a sprint as he follows the train. He jumps, his runner's legs propelling him airborne, and he's up and onboard before we can blink.

It'll be harder for us.

I turn and race alongside the train, towards a little rise that I'd marked when we arrived, running for all I'm worth. Sand shifts beneath my paws as I reach the ridge’s summit, and I feel it giving way as I push off, launching myself into the air. 

For a moment, I hang suspended, weightless, as the winds howl and crash around me...and then my paws scrape against corrugated iron. I dig my claws in, grounding myself, letting a slight snarl escape as I pull away from the edge. Only once I've reached the side of the train car do I let myself relax.

Another faint thud behind me, then a hiss, and I turn around to see Elena shuffling towards me on three legs. For a second I'm inclined to make a joke, and then I see red - a long, thin cut grazes the side of my sister's paw.

I bite back the initial protective instinct. "Wes still has some spare Potions," I say. "Let him know, and he can patch you up."

She shakes her head. "I'll be fine, brother," she says, though she looks anything but. For a second I consider insisting, but...Wes has finally jimmied a side door open, and he beckons us inside with an errant wave.

"Let's head in," I suggest.

"Yeah," says Elena, and the chuckle that follows sounds painfully forced. "We just...jumped on a train. We jumped on a train. Gods, Lune, can you-"

"I can," I respond - because unlike her, I'd actually wanted to jump on the train. But I let some of my apprehension out as I say, "Everything's changing, sis. We're finally moving ahead in the world."

Ahead of us, Wes withdraws two Pokeballs from his coat. It makes sense - easier for one to hide aboard the train than three, and he can have us out in a pinch if we're needed.

And I...I know it'll be over soon. Barely an instant, for us at least.

"See you on the other side," I say - not sure who to - as the scarlet glow consumes my vision.  
\------

When the red light flashes again, we're in a place both familiar and foreign.

Familiar because all of eastern Orre becomes familiar after a while. The rusty brown of the yard and the dull yellow beyond are the same as wherever I've been, and the light purple sky, marked by a few twinkles to the east, is about par for desert evenings. But it's still foreign, because...we've never been here before.

"Outskirt Stand," Wes mutters, just loud enough for us to catch. Elena looks up, her ears perking up, and I resist the urge to do the same. "Wanted to stop here and switch - they'd expect us to take the train all the way, so we won't do that." He shakes his hand idly, glancing down as he does, and then continues, "Follow me inside. And try to keep your heads down."

He turns and walks briskly away, stepping inside what I'd thought was an abandoned train car. A bell jingles behind the door, I hear someone call from inside, and then realisation comes. "Some sort of hideout," I say, and then I turn. "Elena, we should follow him. I don't like the look of this."

Elena doesn't respond.

“Elena!” I bark, and as always the sigh follows. “Never mind, I’ll go-”

“Wait,” she says, placing a paw on my shoulder, pinning me in place. I turn back to her, raising one ear - and then we hear it.

The wind twists its way through the deserted train park, and it’s there, that peculiar mixture of sand and warm air and rusted metal that drifts towards us from the horizon’s edge. It’s half whistle, half ringing bell, with an edge almost too shrill for me to pick out, but it’s a familiar tone nonetheless. For a second I’m back out in the sun, staring over the broad expanses of eastern Orre, as that familiar screech sings all around me.

But it’s not quite the same here. That sound belonged to the corrugated roofs of Echo Canyon - and we’re not in Echo Canyon anymore.

“...let’s just go inside,” I suggest lamely.

Inside the stand, it’s less metal shell and more cave, warm, cozy and humming with energy. Behind the walls, amidst the hustle and bustle, the desert’s melody recedes to barely an echo.

Wes sits in the far corner, away from the evening crowd, his eyes cast over his booth and out the window. As we move closer, the murmur of a radio becomes steadily more audible, reciting details about the Hoennian occupation before cutting away to an intermission.

Our trainer looks up as we approach. "Hey," he says. He drums his hands on the table, and continues, "I ordered a dish or two - did you guys know they serve Pokemon here? Anyways, yeah, uh...just stay close."

I trade a look with Elena - who seems lost in her own world - before turning to the bowl. It's strange - the plan is working. We're ahead of the curve, on our way to a new life - and yet Wes seems more worried than I've ever seen him.

If it wasn't for the food, I'd be prowling, watching the other customers for telltale signs, a hint that we’d been made. But as it was…I can keep one eye open while I eat.

And I do. I'm almost through the kibble when a big burly figure appears from behind the counter, navigating the throng towards us. I inch away from my plate, tensing, sparing a glance for my sister and Wes. My sister is oblivious as ever, and Wes seems...unconcerned.

Oh.

"You have anything for me?" Wes asks as the figure approaches.

"Might," the figure ventures. At close range, I can see the tattoo winding out from under his sleeve, another telltale sign telling me to bite him first and ask questions later.

But Wes seems settled. More than settled; his cool mask is back in place, and the look he shows is detached and unruffled to match his need. So I don the same mask; settle myself back down, act disinterested. I keep a wary eye open, though, because better safe than sorry.

"Take you out to the garage?" the dealer asks.

"Sure," Wes responds. "C'mon, Elena, Lune, let's finish up."

I'm not sure why I've been lumped in with my sister...but I turn back to finish off my meal anyways. It's that or leave it, and I'd never leave a laden plate behind.

Beyond the bar's back door sprawls the open-air garage, a motley assortment of vehicles, engines and forsaken parts, scattered wildly across sand dunes. The space is bounded by wrecked train cars on all sides, save an opening to our left marked by dying daylight.

We follow the dealer deeper into the twilight shadows, the light flickering tantalisingly ahead of us. And it's there that we see it; a lean, tapered black-and-grey motorbike, slumped against a makeshift metal stand.

"What do you think?" asks the dealer, gesturing to the bike.

No.. It's not bad, it's just...unimpressive. It doesn’t float, there's no sidecar, and it’s maybe a quarter of the size soaking wet. It’s not the bike. It’s just a bike.

"There's no way…" I mutter.

"I'll take it," Wes says.

I look up in shock, but it's already settled. Green slices of paper are exchanged with a perfunctory handshake, and then the owner departs, leaving the three of us with our new bike.

"You guys won't be able to ride alongside," Wes comments, sounding a little down, "but since we're looking to stay under the radar, this works. This works fine." He grabs the bike with both hands - it's so small that even our scrawny trainer looks formidable next to it - and begins walking it out of the garage. Elena and I follow slowly.

No Snagger bike. No backup. Destination unknown. Was this a temporary hardship...or the new name of the game?

"You alright, Lune?" Elena asks.

"I'm not sure, sis," I say, slowly. "It's just...everything's changed."

Wes slings his goggles over his face, and then he looks to us. "Get some rest, guys," he says, as he raises the Pokeballs. "It's going to be a long ride."


	3. melodramatic

They call Phenac the great shining diamond of Orre.

 

All cities are somewhat like gemstones, in a way.  Like gems grow deep in the heart of mountains, cities spring up in the most unlikely places, building upon themselves layer by stony layer.  Like a gemstone is coloured by its constituent compounds, cities take on colours and flash bright lights to reflect the presence of its people.  At its hard core the city is purest, a shining gem that validates the sooty, rough exterior.

 

There  _is_  beauty to be found within these four walls - in the bright colours of the merchant district, in the red-and-yellow cobbled streets, and in the city's dozen glittering fountains, their water more precious than diamonds.  But it takes a keener eye than a watcher's to find beauty here.

 

This street is quiet - there is no music here, no trilling birds, none of the hustle and bustle of a lively city.  Cracked and shattered windows are covered by old wooden boards, each one marked with stern red ink. “CONDEMNED”.  And condemned they’ve been.

 

The figure leaves the bike leaning against a wall, strolls two doors down until he stands in the old aquaduct's shade.  The door he chooses has a lock.  But against his quick hands and his trusty multi-tool, it might as well have been a knot of folded reeds, for all the security it afforded.

 

A low creak emanates down the street, as the door inches open.  Two flashes of red follow.

 

\------

 

She blinks a few times as she emerges from the ball; it's dark wherever she's come out, and the air around her is stale and motionless.

 

Her ears twitch as she pads into the open space, trying to divine what lies beyond.  But her uncertainty only rises when she gets nothing back - the lack of fresh air means her wind-sense is near useless.  She feels practically blind without it.

 

 _Stupid wind-sense,_  she thinks disparagingly, although she's not sure who she's disparaging. 

 

"Well, here we are, guys," said Wes from behind them.  "Home, sweet...this is just temporary, but it's home for now.  Until we work something else out."

 

 _Something else._   It was all Wes would say whenever he was prodded, all Lune would ever talk about.  Something else.  It'd be nice if she knew what this something else would be, or she could do when it rolled around.

 

She traipses further into the house, letting Wes and Lune clear out the landing.  They're better at thinking, at planning, at taking care of the little things.  So she leaves them to it, like she always does.  She keeps walking until she’s found the back of the house - almost the back, anyways.  Only one towering door remains, its handle just a little higher than she could reach with a jump.

 

Good thing she doesn't need to jump, then.  Pink miasma coalesces around the handle, and she begins to turn this knob like she's turned a hundred others-

 

And something rumbles behind the door.

 

A gasp; she releases the psychic pressure.  It takes her a second to compose herself, to reach out - and there's another rumble,  _before_  she'd thrown out even a speck of energy.

 

If her wind-sense was working, she could have pushed around the door, through the tiny gaps in the frame, and felt out just what was hiding back there.  As it was, she can't tell, and all she knows is that the rumbles sound big and loud and angry.

 

And so it would be perfectly reasonable for her to turn around and run full-speed back towards the front of the house.  Which she did.

 

Lune looks up as she approaches, faint disdain clouding his eyes.  “Back so soon, sis?”

 

"There's a-" she starts, then bites it back.  A yip for Wes, and she leads the two of them towards her discovery.

 

"Sis, if this is another-"

 

She yips again, more to shut her brother up than anything else.

 

"So this is a...door," says Wes, seemingly non-plussed.  After a second of mulling, he grabs the knob, and then comes the rumble.

 

Lune doesn't budge.  He shifts backward, eyes locked on her even as another rumble sounds.

 

"Sounds like a generator gone bad or something," Wes says.  He steps back, cocking his head, fingers twitching for a few seconds as he comes to a decision.  "We'll take care of it another time," and he turns away from the locked door, already drawn by something else that needs attending to.

 

Lune stops long enough to cast a sideways look at her, eyes almost crossed, completed by a sigh.  She wonders what the sigh means - recently he's been doing it almost every time he stops to acknowledge her.  It couldn't be exasperation if he was doing it this much, could it?  Even he’d get tired of that at some point.

 

Wes says something else, something about going out, and she yips in agreement before he's even finished speaking.  "I was…" he starts, then he shakes his head.  "Alright, then, let's hit the town, see what it looks like."

 

The door still stands open, and she's the first one out, bounding fearlessly into the unknown.

 

\------

 

"Simmer down, Elena," says Lune.  Wes interjects again from behind him, calling them down a road to their right, and she turns on a dime to follow.  There's  _another_  fountain at the street's end (where do they get the water for these?) and she leads the way down, savoring the sights and sensations.

 

She remembers that Lune had told her...something, but she couldn't keep track and didn't want to, not when she had the city laid out before her like this.  The breeze is so gentle it's practically a massage, and around her Phenac glows with light and midday warmth, everything looks so clean and everyone seems so nice-

 

It'd barely been an hour, and she never wanted to leave.

 

"Sis," calls Lune.  She ignores him as she reaches the fountain, stepping up onto the marble and peering into the pool.  The sunlight dazzles her for a moment, but after a second her eyes have adjusted enough to pick out her reflection.  The image ripples with each slow wave, and there's too much flux to pick out anything distinct.

 

So she dunks a paw in, trying to stop the gentle waves, but the image dissolves under the resulting splash - and now she can't see herself at all.

 

"Sis," calls Lune.  "Guess we'll be eating without you then."

 

What?

 

"What?" she asks, rounding on Lune.  Warm air rises slowly off of him, and he seems perfectly at ease as he speaks.

 

"You heard me," he says, for once straight-faced.  "We're stopping for lunch."

 

"And you were thinking about having lunch without me?" she asks, suddenly indignant.  He thought he could pull that kind of fast one on her?

 

"You seemed to be doing fine on your own." Lune shrugs once, idly, before turning away.  "It's right around here, come whenever you want," he calls over his shoulder.

 

He thought he could pull that kind of fast one on her?

 

She feels the breeze pick up before it reaches her, and the rustle of a floating newspaper catches her ear.  It drifts lazily past her, floating toward Lune as he ambled away to his planned victory feast.

 

But she can't let him get away with that, oh no.  A faint hint of pink appears in the air, and she grins despite herself.

 

The newspaper lands on his nose, wrapping around his face in a heartbeat.  He snorts in surprise, shaking his head to try and dislodge the offending paper.  Had it been a regular newspaper, it would have gone flying.  But a newspaper bolstered by her psychic power, well...

 

She keeps the psychic hold on for a few seconds, keeps the paper locked in place over his eyes and nose, enjoying the sight of Lune staggering around blindly and yelping in muffled shock.  It's only when Wes calls for her to knock it off that she lets it go, lets the paper drift back to the wind.  Interruption over.

 

Lune glares daggers at her as they cross the open square, and he's not the only one looking.  So much for 'keep your heads down'.

 

Worth it.

 

She finds Wes already seated, and she settles down next to him, away from Lune, who's already found something to brood upon.  The table faces the square, and she leans out, enjoying the warm wind running through her fur as-

 

Wait.  There's disruptions in the air around her, discordant songs of fear and anger.  She looks up - and there.

 

Three people outside the cafe - two local roughs facing off against a young girl, her red hair tied back into a ponytail.  Her face flashes with defiance, but the roughs tower over her, and she can see the flash of pokeballs at their waists.

 

She turns to Wes, but her trainer's already out of his seat.  Lune hasn't moved.  "Get up, Lune," she yelps.

 

"Not feeling it," he responds with a yawn. 

 

"Not feeling it?" and she jabs him in the side for emphasis.  "Wes just got up, there's something hap-"

 

"Maybe if someone hadn't stuck a newspaper in my nose," Lune suggests, "I'd be doing a little better, but...alas."

 

She looks away guiltily for a second, which is all it takes to remind her of the altercation.  "Lune!" she hisses.  "Look, I'm sorry about the paper, but please can you just get up?  Wes might end up in a fight with those two."

 

"Why would he?  It's not our fight, and besides," her brother side-eyes her, throwing a pointed glare at the two street kids on the way.  "If we get up, they'll think they're worrying us.  And then they'll be more likely to stick around, maybe do something stupid.  Sit down and it'll all be fine."

 

"You don't know that!" she snaps, turning her head up - and her snarl dies in her throat.  There're the two street kids, walking away with their hands in their pockets and heads down.

 

"See?" says Lune.  "They're running, and I didn't even have to get up."

 

"They ran because they didn't want to deal with me," she says.  "And if you'd stayed down while they pulled out a Pokeball-"

 

"If they had, I would've been there," he says, sniffling a little.  "Gods, Elena, maybe if you thought for once-"

 

“Hey,” Wes interjects, and they turn their heads on a dime to face their.  The redheaded girl's standing with him, seeming strangely abashed.  "Sorry I left - anyways, this is Rui.  Rui - these guys are Elena and Lune."

 

"Hi," says the young woman, something in her voice sounding strangely forced.  She raises one hand - the other hidden by a chair - and offers a short wave.

 

By which time Wes has already pulled out a chair for her.  "You wanna join us?" he asks.

 

Rui starts at the question, and she rubs the back of her head before she speaks.  "It's not that I wouldn't like to...you know," she trails off lamely.  "But I wouldn't want to impose or anything."

 

"Are you sure?" Wes asks.  "You wouldn't be imposing at all, trust me."  He does a decent enough plaintive look - better than Lune's on the days her brother bothers - and it seems to do the trick.  Rui steps towards the chair and seats herself, and something clinks against the table.

 

Which leaves her unable to continue her dispute with Lune, not without making a scene.  So she drifts closer to the newcomer.  The young woman smells nice - warm with a hint of fragrance, and judging by her wind-sense, she's more relaxed than she looks. 

 

She knows that Rui's recognised her presence when she feels a hand tracing down her neck, finding just the right spot behind her ear to massage.  Mmmmm.  She's talking to Wes too, but listening in would be a chore right now.  Easier to just relax.

 

"Research assistant?" Wes asks, and Lune perks his ears up at that.  It takes effort for her to not move.  Rui starts describing whatever a 'research assistant' is, and she struggles to keep interest - it sounds technical, and there's a lot of names and long words in there that she doesn't feel like keeping track of.  She's not sure what about the question matters - but if they're interested in it, she'll probably hear about it later.

 

 _If Lune tries to quiz me or something, I'll pretend I fell asleep,_  she thought.  That was the one excuse that he forgave, even if it was never true.  But speaking of excuses.

 

"Well," she says, finally feeling ready to pursue the argument, "if Wes was like you, sitting back, then we wouldn't have met Rui."

 

Lune looks up at that.  He shrugs, a slower shift of his shoulder than usual.

 

"What?" she asked.

 

"Maybe," says Lune, drawing the words out, "when I say something you should trust what I say.  Seeing as how, oh, I’m your older brother and I know more than you do.”

 

The barb stung, and she bites back the instinct to jump to her feet.  For one thing, she knew getting up would draw attention and ruin the moment, but on the other hand...as much as she knew Lune was usually right, as much as she wanted to trust him, she just couldn’t stand back and act unconcerned like her did.  And she didn't know how he could.

 

She didn’t say a word for the rest of the afternoon.

 

\------

 

The three of them rise as one.  Their new-met companion has departed already, and by now the three of them have found what they'd come for.  And so the day’s excursion comes to an end.

 

The tall figure - Wes, his name is - beckons his teammates to return to their domicile.  He walks with eyes focused, newfound clarity enough to stifle his worries for now.  But the turmoil that threatens them will not come from within.  Look back and watch the dark one’s affected disinterest, the light one’s restlessness.  Watch the tension in their movements - each step holds a word unspoken, and their short breaths are the breeze that heralds a sandstorm.

 

Dusk falls slowly - red and orange bleed through the distant horizon as purple swallows the sky.  It's the same sunset as it was yesterday, the same autumn wind that blows every season...but today it feels ominous.

 

Is it the trio that makes it feel so?  Bound to the cycle and yet straying openly from the path, there's a significance about them that draws a watcher's eyes, something buried deep and barely visible.  Even now - there they are, eyes bright as they retreat to their temporary domicile.  Look a little further, a little deeper, and watch them emerge into pale moonlight, ready to brave the shadow city.

 

The future is ever in motion, and not all paths can be seen - they must be traversed, walked to their rightful end, come fire or rain or the end of all things.  Of their ending, only possibilities can be glimpsed for now.

 

Yet the path these three walk has not daunted them yet.  And perhaps they may have a role to play - if the cycle will first relinquish its claim.


	4. feeling low

Night falls quickly in Orre, and as soon as the sun starts falling the wind picks up, sliding through Phenac’s alleyways with the speed and precision of a knife.

I suppress a shiver or two as I slink along, bringing up the rear.  My sister takes the vanguard as she always does - and for once she has the decency to keep her head up.  Wes walks between us, keeping a steady pace with barely a murmur.

And I'm at the back, eyes occasionally flicking behind us.  Watching for the dagger in the darkness, the shadow we'd missed on the first pass.  Wondering if tonight's the night it finally shows its face.

We made our way back to the market district, close to where we'd stopped for lunch today.  Made sense - if we'd found hood rats hanging around by day, the place should be crawling with them now.  Perfect place for a demonstration.  Maybe too perfect.

But I can already see a target - blond kid with a beanie, plastic bag sitting at his feet and Pokeballs at his waist.  As soon as he sees us he starts tossing them one at a time, no shouting for help.  Very brave of him - braver than his handful of Pokemon would justify.  There's a Meowth, a Yanma and a Machop, all garden-variety, just the warm-up I’d been looking for.

Elena stops to charge an attack, and I race out in front, putting myself between my sister and the Meowth, screening her so that she can throw out Psychic attacks without fear.  I let the cat Pokemon take a swipe at me, dodge out of the way, then pin its paw to the ground with the follow-through.  All that’s left is swinging my head down like a club - and watching the Meowth crumple to the cobblestones.

When I look up, the Machop’s down too, but the Yanma is buzzing angrily, feinting around Elena’s psychic bursts.  It drifts closer to my sister, the air around it shimmering - and I intercept the bug with a snarl, slamming it into the wall.  My claws puncture its carapace like paper, and the Yanma's wings spasm feebly as it falls, the fight gone out of it.

“ _Stay down,_ ” I hiss as I turn away.  Wes has their boss backed up against a fountain - the kid’s eyes are glittering in fear, and his hands are wide up in the air.

“Take- take it,” he says, gesturing at the bag beneath him.  “It’s all I have.”

Wes stays silent, lets us press closer.  When he speaks it's casual.  "If I were looking for more," and I growl to punctuate his statement, "where would I find some?"

The kid freezes, and I see two conflicting fears clashing behind his face.  I growl again, Elena follows suit, and the immediate terror wins out.

“Plaza,” he says, after he’d swallowed enough of his fear to speak.  “Two blocks west of here.”

Wes nods.  "And I'm guessing that this time of night, can't expect anyone to be ready for a threat."  He nodded once, eyes never leaving the beanie-wearing kid in front of him.  It's a veiled warning, that if we encounter ready opposition we'll know who's to blame.

We gave him a few seconds to let the message sink in.  Then we took to the streets again - no point in wasting perfectly good moonlight.

\------

She doesn't need to look over her shoulder to feel their breathing, tight and controlled.  Just like she doesn’t need to see them to tell how much care they’re putting into their movements - it reminded her of one of the few times they’d come out west, how they’d snuck carefully along the plains, wary of forgotten landmines.   Could they have mines inside the city?  The thought sounded silly even to her.  Probably not, then.

She'd probably have ignored it if it was just Lune - he was always wound tight on nights like these - but Wes was showing it too.  The reason for it eludes her though, and eventually she shrugs it off.  They're just worrying.  It's what they do.

She'd be worrying too, if she had anything to worry about.

It wasn't long before they found their next destination, yellow and red pinpricks in the dark marking the street's occupants.  She'd never been that clear on how Wes decided which places to raid, but this looks like the spot.  The wind cuts sharp through the alley, standing her hair on edge, and she could feel faint shifts in the dark as cigarette lights died one by one.

She grins despite herself when the Pokeballs finally arc, an eternity later.  And they're off.

As soon as the first few Pokemon materialise she throws out a burst of Psychic energy, and dark shapes start crumpling to the ground.  Lune creeps up on her side, rings flashing in a hypnotic pattern, and a dazed Pidgeotto cuts its ascent short, adrift in the midnight breeze.  The Psybeam catches him between the eyes and the bird crashes back to earth, and she’s not even sure that he felt it at all.

A minute passes - Lune’s closed to close quarters, scrapping with a large Electabuzz while she sweeps up the stragglers.  Once they’re done she joins him, throws a Swift at the Electric-type’s eyes with barely a look.  The hulking Pokemon covers his face, and Lune slams into his exposed torso without missing a beat.

It's only when he falls that she realises that there're no trainers in sight - none except Wes.  The kid from before stuck around even after his Pokemon had fallen, but these roughs clearly had someplace else to be.

“Guess they had someplace else to be, right, Lune?” she asks.

He was staring past her for a second, seeming not to pay attention.  “Lune!” she barks.

“What- let Wes check the bags, and then we’ll get going again,” he says.

“That’s not what I said!" she snaps.  She starts again.  "Guess they had someplace else to be, right?"

He stares at her for a second.  “Oh,” he says.  “Oh.  That’s not bad, honestly.”  He shakes his head and paces away before she could ask him anything.

So this was victory, then.  They'd beaten up the roughs, taken their stuff, she'd managed to crack a joke at their expense.  And victory felt good, it felt fulfilling-

\------

-it felt downright boring.  They'd been walking for half an hour now, treading wider and wider circles around Phenac, and not a soul had come into sight in all that time.

They'd routed the locals, taken their cash and their bags…and gotten no pointers to give them another target.  She'd never been all that clear on how Wes had found targets before, but for once he seemed to be at a loss.

"Lune," she asked when she'd mustered up the nerve.  "Where do you think everyone's gone to?"

"Beats me," he sighs.  "Maybe they're just past the corner."

She closes her eyes for a second, feeling the wind ruffle her fur.  "Nope," she says, after she's finished probing the air.  "There's nobody there."

He shrugs.  "It was worth a try."

She turns the corner, head up, probing the air for a sign of life.  And then she realises that they've left Wes behind.

She finds him looking at the wall, at a faded poster, its red and black still bold even in the dead of night.  She scowls briefly at the twisting curling lines lettering the poster, but her expression softens as she looks up at her trainer.  Whatever they say, they mean something to him.

"Sis-"

"Lune," she asks, cutting him off, "what does that poster say?"

"I- Elena, I don't read."  His voice quakes a little at the end.

"Doesn't mean you can't."  A pause, and then, "It means something to Wes."

He sighs.  "'Return to prosperity and rise towards the future.  Vote Esca-'" he stops short.

"Lune?"  Her brother zipped past her, faster than he'd been on the streets earlier, and he jumped to bat his forehead against Wes' hand.

Her trainer started awake.  "Hey, sorry I tapped out there.  What do you," and he fell silent, watching Lune shake his head.  She'd never really gotten how her brother managed to make humans understand him, but at least he can do it.  After a few seconds Wes sighs, and continues, "You know what, let's call it a night.  Come back tomorrow with fresh eyes."

Call it a night?  They'd only just come out!  She opens her mouth - and Lune catches her eyes, warning her silent.

She fumes silently throughout the walk home, but it isn't until they see the aquaduct's stark silhouette that she finds it in her to ask again.

"We'll find some other town to hit," Lune says.  "Not here."

"What's wrong with here?"  She's been here only a day and yet Phenac already feels like it's hers.  Bright by day and breezy by night, and the songs of the fountains made such a breathtaking melody-

"Nothing.  And everything."  Lune sighs.  "Not our call, anyways - Wes will probably want out now, and it's not like we can stop him."

"Why would he want to leave here?"  She thinks - it must have something to do with the poster.  "Is this about...Prosperity?  Esca- Escalator?"  She substitutes the last word as a guess.

He shakes his head.  "No, it's...someone else.  He used to live outside of Phenac, but from the sounds of things he's here now."

"So?  We'll just find out where he's stashing his stuff and steal it."

"This isn't the east, Elena," her brother snaps.  "Back there we had Snagem behind us, and now we have Snagem behind us in a different way.  We don't need this guy on our tail too."

So they weren't staying because Wes and Lune didn't think they could take this guy on?  That sounded silly.

"It is what it is," Lune sighs.  "Phenac was just a stop along the way anyways.  We'll try Pyrite instead, see if someone there will help us get past the Gateon checkpoints.  From there," he turns away, shaking his head a little.  "We'll see."

The only sound that follows is the whistle of the wind, a low and mournful note.

\------

We're still in Phenac.

A cheer erupts around us, and I curse inwardly.  Not only are we still in Phenac, we've found the biggest, most crowded structure in the city and camped ourselves there.  Against that, even the shadow cast by the Mayor's box doesn't mean a lot - as much as Wes knows his precautions, it only takes one good look to give us away, and if we get made there's no way we could escape the Colosseum.

We'd caught a few hours of sleep after returning to the house, and I'd expected when we'd woken Wes would've been packed and ready to go.  Instead we wound up here.  I saw the sense in it - gangs tended to congregate around Colosseums back east, and there was no reason to suppose it wasn't the same here - but it's still wrong.

"Keep your eyes open," Wes admonishes the two of us.  "If you see anything, you know the drill."

Of course I do.  Doesn't change everything else, though.

Hard to keep my eyes open when everything is a potential threat - but strangely, people are giving us distance.  There are plenty of empty seats that I can see, but the few people in our vicinity don't seem eager to intrude on us.  I noticed it earlier, except as time went on it seemed less like fear (or even concern, the first step towards fear), than out of...deference?  But what do they have to be deferential about?  Do they see something that I don't, one of those human things?

No answer comes to mind.  I sigh...if I'm missing something, that only means I have to be twice as watchful to make up for it.  Thrice, really - somebody has to make up for Elena.

"What do you think of that Houndour?" she asks lightly, breaking my focus.  "She's cute, right?"

"She- the one three rows down?" I start.  "Yeah, she's cute, I guess.  Very cute."  I leave it at that.  Not the time and place to open that can of worms.

Which leaves me wondering why she's choosing now to fixate on that sort of thing.  And why she's still staring at the Houndour in question.

The crowd roars, and I take my opportunity to scan once again, for anything that we could pounce on.  The fight itself isn't all that much - the trainer on our side of the field had the clear advantage, his Ursaring bulling through a Noctowl's aerial attacks, and catching it with swipes that are steadily wearing it down.  It's not that that's the problem - it's the telltale signals, the pauses, the moments when both sides seem to pull back from a lethal blow, in a way that they'd never do if they were fighting for keeps.  It's a good show they're putting on, but at the end of the day, a show's just a show.

 _We could probably make a killing here._   For a second I consider that - Wes entering, becoming the crowd's darling, us being able to make our way out legitimately.  It's a tempting idea, one that transfixes me for a second until the shadow above me reminds me where we are.

I glance up at the Box above us, and level the overlook with a scowl.  Even if he's not here now, he's still  _here_ , and as long as he's here we have to lay low.  No easy way out.

I drop my gaze, scan the stands to my right, and- there.  Tall man, glancing around with casual ease as he slides an envelope beneath a folding chair, walking away seemingly without a second thought.  Dead drop.

I nudge Wes, jerk my head in that direction.  He sees it, and we start moving, circling the upper levels and cautiously homing in on our target.  Nobody comes close to the chair as we move, even as it sits next to an aisle.  Could something finally be going our way?

We walk up the aisle towards the tunnel - psychic miasma tugs the envelope's corner towards Wes as he passes, and he snags its edge without having to look.  And we keep walking until the stadium's cheers start to echo and the smell of fresh summer air has faded away.

Wes crouches to examine the envelope's contents, as Elena and I pad across the floor to check our sides.  Clear.  For a second I worry that this might have been too easy...but we know Phenac gangs are careless on the street, so it wouldn't be too hard to assume that they're slow with picking up drops as well.  Complacency-

Wes starts, and a page jerks free, falling to the floor.  It's a faded shot, black and white and- it's us.  It's  _us_  - all three of us sitting there, distinct even in the darkness, staring out at the stadium.  The powder smells fresh, and the angle of the picture - he took this shot right now.  And we'd missed it entirely.

"Lune?" asks Elena, her voice wavering, but I ignore her for now.  Behind her Wes picks up the photograph, turns it over - and there's the second part of the message.   _1224 North Mesa -_  it's an address, a location.  A summons.

The shadow returns to my mind, and the air around me feels colder, but no.  This isn't his style, this is someone else trying to draw us out.  Snagem?  Some other enemy looking to swing the knife?

We should never have come here in the first place.  But if the pursuit is this close, then we can't flee either.

"We don't run," says Wes, slowly, with resolve.  "We plan, we wait, we get a look at this place beforehand.  Then we go in when night falls - and we make whoever this is reconsider this message."  His voice is cold, almost emotionless, but the prospect of violence screams out nonetheless.

Sounds good to me.


	5. carry on

It shouldn't be a surprise. That doesn't stop it from being one.

Our shadows reach almost to the far side of the street now, but nothing moves beneath them. Two hours waiting, and still nothing. We've been here since we found the address, watching from the far side of the rooftops, but for all we've seen we might as well have been watching the moon rise.

"Let's get down," says Wes, his voice tight. I hiss, red sunlight bleeding into my eyes as I stare at him. We’d come looking for a fight, and now we were leaving without one? Even if it’s a trap (and it probably is), at least that’ll be something.

Elena shoulders past me on the way to the ladder, and she stalks down without saying a word. I follow her, feeling strangely lost. Daylight's almost gone, and it's doubtful that anything will happen after sundown. Where does that leave us, though?

I step off the metal rungs and touch solid ground, but I still feel adrift, aimless. Anticipating a burst of adrenaline that'll make everything clear and knowing that it's not going to come, and I’m just wondering if this is how it all comes to a stop.

"What now?" I ask Elena, as we fall in behind our trainer. Funny that I'm asking her now, after all those times I'd give her grief for not knowing. Uncertainty turns the tables on all of us.

She scrunches her face up to think, and it takes two blocks of walking for her to finally speak. "Maybe we just go." She shakes her head, looks at me, keeps speaking without breaking stride. "We go west, into the sunset...so far that they can't chase us. We were going that way anyways, right?"

We were - we are. Gateon was always the goal. And...even if we leave this unfinished, so what? There's no chance that the Phenac boys would chase us past the wall, and for once we could let live.

As the sun drops below the earth, the lights flicker on one by one, their glare keeping the darkness at bay. We're not too far from Phenac's upper levels, the enclave of those like...the wealthy, the haves. Not too far from where we'd started out, either - no matter where we'd run, we always kept coming back to the same place.

They call Phenac a diamond, but all I've seen are red brick, chrome and water. All of which I've seen out east too. The corners of the Outskirts are just as grimy as the ones here, and maybe the cafe served better food, but..would Gateon really be that much better than this? Would Unova or Kalos?

If only it were so simple.

"It's not our call," I sigh. "And even if it was...there's desert and gangs and checkpoints between here and the coast. We stopped here looking for a ticket, not a death threat."

"A ticket?" Elena cocked her head. "You mean papers of some sort?"

"Papers of some sort," I echo. I'm still not sure what Elena thinks of writing, whether there's any sort of power to it. I used to think that way before I worked out what the black lines meant.

The streets have steadily emptied out as we've moved - just a few pedestrians ahead, watching us warily. Between me and Elena, they probably have reason to be. You don't see that many Pokemon on the streets while the sun's up, and even with the sun setting there's only three of us here.

Three of us. Me, my sister, and the earthy-smelling creature passing by the end of the alley. Funny - smells like two distinct fragrances coming from that direction, and the hairs on my back are prickling. We're not too far from that address, and for all we know this could be the ambush. I tense-

"Wes?"

Rui?

\------

The dust cloud sweeps slowly away from the low-hanging moon, glittering in the starlight as if it was a constellation itself. The procession of steel and smoke has come to a halt in its wake, yet the sand continues onwards over the plains of the east heedless. What has been set in motion cannot so easily be recalled.

"You've always been friends to Snagem," says the thin man, his tone conveying none of a friend's warmth. "And we don't ask much. Just some extra muscle to hunt down the runaway."

The man in the gray coat tsks, more for his guest's benefit than a watcher's. He takes a second to adjust his sunglasses before speaking. "We have no 'muscle' to loan. Dakim is scouting past Mount Battle, and until he returns we don't have anyone to spare."

"Scouting?" asks the thin man, something close to interest in his voice. "Past Mount Battle...that's the Howls. What're you looking for out there?"

The man in the gray coat smiles beatifically. The man in the thin coat stares at him, through him, thinking if it might be worth killing him to negotiate with the next in line. Cold calculus, almost certainly not worth it.

"You did not come alone," the man in the gray coat notes. "Eight men and women - nine counting yourself. To me that seems sufficient to run down a lone coward." But not enough to storm this base, his voice implies, pushing that point a little further.

"He's faced worse odds than this," says the thin man coldly. "You can’t blame us for being careful."

“Neither can you blame us,” the man in the gray coat responds, half-turning to indicate finality. And that should be the end of it, but for the thin man’s parting words.

"If you can't spare muscle, then a few of your black balls would be appreciated." The air seems to grow colder as he says those words. The man adjusts his coat and stops walking. He doesn’t turn to face the thin man’s eyes, glinting in triumph.

"Word travels, you know," says the thin man. "And we know you have to be doing something with the ones we bring you. But there's no reason that this secret has to go beyond us."

"Three," says the man in the coat, finally looking back. "We can give you three, if you'll pay fair price." The thin man's smile is as sharp as it is sudden.

"You can bring them out to us. I'll tell the crew to wait up," and with that the thin man turns away. "We don't have cash on hand, but you know where to find us," he adds, almost as an afterthought.

He misses the white apparition that slides across the sands to the man in the coat. The two of them withdraw into the compound's shadow before the white figure begins to speak, her voice high and hopeful. "We could kill him. He wouldn’t go talking to anyone if he was off the air

"If we kill him, then we have to kill the ones he came with," responds the man in the coat, adjusting his sunglasses yet again. "And we don’t have the strength to stave off Gonzap coming for us in force, even with the shadows."

"Could our patron do anything?" the white woman asks fretfully. Her hazel eyes twinkle delicately, even as she continues, "certainly he could sweep up the lot of them and crush them all if he wanted. Crush them like the mice they are..."

"We’re not his only concern," the gray-coated man responds, morosely. "In fact he called to tell me he wants me looking into this Snagem runaway. With all the work I’ve been doing with the shadows, having to deal with this too-"

The man perks up, looking out into the black as if something has occurred to him. "We could give him shadows - we should give him shadows. He can field-test them, see how they perform, and if they get caught then it’s Snagem taking the fall and not us." He smirks. "And the new specimens - if I’m right about sending Dakim after the others, then even the most recent ones will be second-tier troops at best. Perfect to hand out as bribes."

"I still say we should kill him," the woman in white pouts. "He can’t walk in here and threaten us like this. Our patron pays for everything, and even he doesn’t-"

"We’ll get around to it," he whispers. In his hand is a small purple sphere, emblazoned with a black lightning bolt. "Once they’ve outlived their usefulness, they’ll die screaming." He strokes the sphere in his hand, and then, almost absently, he presses the button in the middle. The reek of ozone fills the air, shadows blanket the ground and no, it can’t be-

In the distance the storm roars back to life, sudden thunder startling the guards. They’ve loosed this storm, set it into motion. Corrupted them with their shadows. To bring them back from the brink will not be so easy.

\------

It's Rui!

Lune hangs back, looking like he’d looked that time she’d led him to the storehouse in Echo Canyon. Surprise and bemusement are the two emotions that she can identify on his muzzle, but the rest are too faint, too distant. She was never good at reading her brother even before he evolved. But this should be a good thing, it’s Rui!

Elena smiles and chuffs, turning to face the young woman. She makes her way over, sparing a glance for the Bayleef standing behind Rui, who’s watching her warily. “Don’t get any ideas,” the Pokemon whispers, the leaf on her head fluttering in the wind. They look like they’d get along well with her brother.

Rui bends down to greet her, finding the right spot behind her ears to massage. “...said you lived on the east side,” she says, awkwardly.

“We found our way over this way,” Wes responds awkwardly. Elena skips back to her brother’s side. “Nice Bayleef,” her trainer continues offhandedly. “What’s his name?”

“Joel,” Rui responds, running a hand over her ponytail. “We were just heading back to our place, but it’s getting late.” She looks a little fretful. “Don’t want to get caught while it’s still dark out. Mind coming with?”

Coming with? Wes and Lune seem excited by that too. The five of them soon fall into stride, Rui and Wes talking quietly as she pushes ahead.

“..your sister?” she hears the Bayleef ask. She feels a strand of contempt from him, but it vanishes quickly.

“Yeah,” Lune responds. “We were from around here, even if I’m not sure she remembers. Spent the last few years out east, though.”

“The war?” asks the Bayleef. It takes Lune a while to answer, and his ‘yes’ seems a little guarded. She wants to add that they were too busy with Snagem to leave, but something told her that Lune wouldn’t want her talking about that

“Never got the chance to come back till now,” her brother sighs. “Where you from?”

Elena finds herself dropping back to try and join in. “Johto,” says the Bayleef.

“Johto Joel?” she finds herself asking. It sounds funny.

“Yeah, Johto Joel,” responds the Bayleef, sardonic, as if he’s never heard it before. “Was her starter, we made it up to Cianwood before she decided that the Gym challenge wasn’t for her. And now we’re out here, setting up a new office for Professor Krane.”

“Cool,” her brother responds. He sounds interested and somewhat sad, and she wonders what’s there to be sad about, but Joel doesn’t continue. Maybe it was the ‘Johto Joel’ thing. Eventually her brother shakes his head and turns back to her.

For a second she wonders if it was something she said. Whether she should say anything else. Ever since they’d come down from that rooftop it’d been like...they’d been coming down. Watching what they’d wanted slip away. And walking away from it.

She wonders if there’s something she can do for Lune right now, something to bring back the highs of last night. But faces are hard to read, minds are too confusing, and the moment passes. And they haven't stopped coming down yet.

The sun’s almost set when they arrive...wherever they were going. “So now you know where I live,” Rui comments off-handedly, cocking her head at Wes. Elena wonders if they might get a chance to visit for real later.

“So I do,” says Wes. For a second, she thinks he’s going to continue, but that moment passes too, and they settle for farewells before parting ways. The three of them walk to the end of the street - Lune looks west, into the setting sun, while Wes settles into a crouch beside them, eyes closed.

She wants to go with them, go west, see the ocean and the seaside groves of Gateon and whatever else lies beyond the desert. And she wants to stay in Phenac, chase street toughs, sit beneath cafe tables while Wes and Rui laugh and joke. And she wants to show whoever’s after them who they’re messing with...and she wants to know why they can’t have all of those things if they try.

Maybe they just keep running. Maybe that’s all there is.

Wes sighs, then he reaches down to scratch her ear. "We can't run, not now," he says. "If it's a trap it's a trap." He sounds resigned. Lost. "Battle it out or perish. And if so, then why not here, where you stand?"

The sun falls and the night sweeps in. In the silence that surrounds them she hears their conviction, feels the wind calling them back. They'd never run from a fight back in the Canyon, after all. And they wouldn't start now.

**Author's Note:**

> and here it begins.


End file.
